


To the Ball

by starrdust411



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Body Image, Dancing, F/M, Female Steve Rogers, First Kiss, Getting Together, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 11:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2307410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrdust411/pseuds/starrdust411
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took a few more careful tugs, but eventually the zipper came loose and glided smoothly up the curve of her back. She could still feel Sam’s fingers there, lingering a bit longer than necessary as his eyes took in the odd sight. “Damn Cap,” he breathed as he took a pointed step back. “You clean up good.”</p><p>Stephanie chuckled, her lashes fluttering against the flush of embarrassment. “You look pretty sharp yourself, Falcon.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Ball

“Okay, I think we’re all set up,” Sam announced from within the kitchen, his voice drawing Stephanie’s attention away from the phone that had not gone off once that day. 

They were still relying mainly on Hill for intel on Hydra bases, but that well of information was slowly drying up as she slipped deeper into her duties over at Stark Industries. Hill was pulling away from SHIELD and Hydra, intent on making a fresh start and staying clear from the past, and Stephanie couldn’t find it in herself to judge the former Deputy Director for that. It was easy to get stuck in the past, a fact that she knew all too well, and it clearly took an impressive level of strength to be able to move on. If anything, Stephanie was beginning to feel guilty over holding Hill back, but the number of people they could turn to was limited and Hill was their best source for answers.

Yet things had been quiet for some time and Stephanie was growing anxious reading over the same files and pouring over a map that had been bent and folded and written on nearly a dozen times. Sam had sensed as much, because Stephanie had been tightly wound for longer than she wanted to admit, and Sam was good at spotting this sort of thing. He pulled out her list that morning and decided that they would cross off a few more things in order to get her mind off of the lack of progress for a little while. It was with that in mind that, during their run, Sam had made a discovery that he found to be borderline sinful.

“Wait a minute, it says here you’ve seen Star Wars,” he said, waving to the notepad and the list with a few ticked off items as Stephanie went to work doing cool down stretches on the grass.

“Yeah, I did,” she assured him as she bent forward in order to reach for her calve. The blonde hair of her ponytail spilled out against the slightly damp material clinging to her back as she held her position. Her hair was finally growing a bit longer, the way she had always wanted. Stephanie had envied girls with long thick hair when she was young, her own strands having been too brittle and frail to grow more than a few inches past her shoulder without breaking. She’d chopped it all off during her misguided attempts to sneak into the Army, but cropped hair hadn’t been enough to hide the fact that she was a sickly little girl. Now her body was full of vitamins and without military regulations to follow, she was free to style her thicker locks however she chose. Unfortunately, it always seemed to end up tied off or pulled back, but at least it was her choice. “I saw it about a month ago.”

Sam frowned skeptically as he watched her, his own shirt soaked completely through as he walked slow, calming circles around her. “But you don’t know who Yoda is?”

“Um, I don’t think I remember him,” she shrugged before reaching towards the other leg. “Was he the hairy guy?”

“Nah, man. Yoda! Green dude? Jedi master?” Sam’s frown deepened as he considered this for a moment. “Which Star Wars did you see?”

“Star Wars,” Stephanie said automatically as she leaned back and gazed up at Sam. His expression was impassive as if he were waiting for her to finish. “The one from the 70s.”

“So you only saw the first one?” He shook his head in what could only be described as utter disappointment. “Wow. Just… wow.”

“What? I mean, I know there are more, but everyone always tells me not to bother with the sequels when it comes to movies.”

“Well, in this case, that would be _prequels_ ,” Sam said with an air of distaste as he lowered himself onto the cool grass beside her. “But you _have_ to see all of the original three, _especially_ Empire. That’s just mandatory!”

She grinned at Sam’s enthusiasm. “Is it really that good?”

His smile was wide and full of teeth and it was impossible for Stephanie’s insides not to feel like jelly at the sight of the boyish gleam in his eyes. “Girl, you don’t even know.”

That night Sam walked out of the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn so big he needed both hands to hold it, but he still managed to carry two soda bottles between his skilled fingers as he entered the living room. He was practically radiating excitement as he placed the popcorn down on the coffee table in front of Stephanie before handing her a drink. “Man, I cannot remember the last time I got to watch this movie with someone who’s never seen it before,” he all but gushed as he put his own bottle aside in order to pop in the DVD. “This is going to be fun.”

Stephanie smiled and twisted off her cap, sending a quick glance over her shoulder back towards the kitchen. “You know, Wilson, just because I’m a lady, doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy the occasional beer,” she told him teasingly. “No need to hide the strong stuff from me.”

Sam laughed and settled in on the other end of the couch. “It’s only because your super behind can’t get drunk that I don’t bring out the beers. No point in wasting a drink when it goes unappreciated.” There was enough space for another person to sit between them and Sam’s arm flung over the back of the chair made his side seem so warm and inviting.

“Just because I won’t be stumbling over myself afterwards doesn’t mean I won’t appreciate it.”

Sam shrugged and hit a few buttons on the remote. “Well, have you tasted beer lately? I don’t know how it was back in the forties, but nowadays its sole purpose is to get you drunk and not much else. Unless you’re talking about one of those microbrewery beers, which, yeah, we should definitely check out sometime since you’re so eager to have a drink with me.”

Stephanie flushed at that, inwardly cringing at the possible implications. She hadn’t realized she was coming on so strong and was mindful to tell herself to pull back just as the screen darkened before the title crawl.

They sat in relative silence for the next two hours, Stephanie’s embarrassment evaporating as she was drawn into the story. By the time the final credits began to roll Stephanie felt torn up inside, hardly able to do more than babble and stare at the screen.

“So Vader was his father the whole time?” she gaped, staring at Sam who seemed to be taking a bit too much enjoyment out of her distress. “And he _knew_ it?”

“Well, no, not at first,” Sam explained. “See, in the first movie, Vader was too focused on Obi Wan to notice Luke, but during the time between movies he figured it out.”

“But that still means he spent _years_ hunting down his own son!” Stephanie frowned, shaking her head as she gazed at the bottom of the popcorn bowl now littered with only a few un-popped kernels. “Just… wow.”

“It was good though, right?” Sam chuckled as he finished off the rest of his second bottle of soda and Stephanie found that she didn’t quite know how to answer.

She looked down at her left hand, the one Luke had lost, the one Bucky was missing and suddenly her stomach felt filled with more than popcorn and soda. Yet she managed to push those thoughts aside long enough to flash Sam what she hoped was a convincing grin. “Well, at least now I get that ‘carry me Yoda style’ joke you made this morning.”

Sam laughed as he reached for the remote. “Then it was all worth it.” 

Stephanie felt her phone buzz in her pocket as Sam stood in order to collect the DVD from the player and found a message from Hill waiting for her. She tapped the screen a few times and soon an address flashed into view. “Feel like driving over to Jersey tomorrow?”

-

The base was cleared out before they arrived. From the bullet holes and streaks of dried blood on the walls, it was clear that the Winter Soldier had been there and Stephanie felt frustrated by the knowledge of Bucky once again being two steps ahead of them.

They drove back to DC the same day, Stephanie paying for the gas with the SHIELD issued card she planned to keep using until it would no longer swipe through and driving straight with white knuckles gripping the wheel.

“You keep that up and you’ll owe me another new car,” Sam said lightly, but even as she offered him a tight lipped smile Stephanie could tell there was a note of concern in his words. Sam shifted in his seat as his gaze flickered out the window to study the roads. “Take the next exit over here.”

Stephanie frowned, because it was already dark and the turn off for Sam’s house was still a good three exits away. “What am I heading towards?” she asked as she signaled and pulled into the lane.

“A nice play that serves a pretty decent pizza and some good beer on tap,” Sam told her. “I’m getting pretty hungry and I have a feeling your super gut needs to be refilled.”

The restaurant did have fairly decent pizza, even if it couldn’t hold a candle to a slice of genuine New York pie, and the beer they drank wasn’t as bitter and tasteless as Sam had made it out to be the previous night. Sam was the first man since Bucky that Stephanie could really eat around, but she still cut herself off after demolishing an entire pie on her own since she was mindful that Sam had volunteered to foot the bill.

It was almost like a date, but it wasn’t a date. Stephanie hadn’t had a real date since the forties, back when Bucky had tried to fix her up with every lunk headed stiff he came across. Bucky’s obsession with setting her up had started soon after her mother had died. He claimed that he just wanted to show Stephanie a good time, but she suspected Bucky’s real motives were along the lines of finding her a decent husband. Most of those fellas hadn’t been decent; they had a tendency to lose interest with her the second they saw her knobby knees and washboard chest. The decent ones sat with her long enough to fulfill whatever obligation they felt towards Bucky before politely calling a cab and sending Stephanie home.

Eating with Sam was nothing like a night out with those men. Sam actually talked to her, engaged Stephanie in real conversation and actually cared to hear her thoughts on things. He looked her in the eyes often and smiled sincerely when she spoke. Sam also held doors open and pulled out Stephanie’s chair, the way most fellas didn’t anymore. They all seemed to think that just because she was a six foot two super soldier with arms the size of tree trunks she was no longer a lady.

“How many bases have we been to this week?” Sam asked casually as he wiped the condensation off of his bottle with the pad of his thumb.

“Six,” Stephanie answered automatically as she tore the last of her crust into tiny pieces. She shrugged. “It’s been a slow week.”

“How many last week?” he went on.

“Twelve. No… thirteen.”

Sam nodded as Stephanie chewed on her crust.

“I know this has been pretty hard on you, Sam. Putting your life and your work on hold for me…” Stephanie shook her head and wiped off the cornmeal sticking to her finger tips. “You don’t have to keep up the manhunt if you don’t want to. I’m more than capable of going on alone.”

Sam laughed with a slightly tipsy curl to his lips as he continued to wipe at the moisture clinging to his glass. “You keep saying that and I keep telling you that’s not gonna happen. Don’t get me wrong! I truly believe that you’re more than capable of carrying out a solo mission by yourself, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to let you do it. We’re the rebellion and Hydra’s the Empire and trust me young Skywalker, you’ll need all your rebel friends to help you along the way.”

Stephanie smiled down at her crumb coated plate and the two empty glasses in front of her. “So if I’m Luke in this analogy, then who does that make you? Leia?”

Sam grimaced playfully at that. “I think I’d rather be Han,” he joked. “I think you’ll know why after seeing Return of the Jedi.” 

“Is that _another_ Star Wars movie?”

Sam nodded. “And that’ll be the last one we _have_ to watch. Well, no promises after 2015.”

-

They didn’t watch any movies that night, because it was too late and Sam was too buzzed to do anything more than shower and crawl into bed. Stephanie went to the spare room, where she had been sleeping for the past month after her old apartment had been shot to shreds and Sam had signed himself up to be her wingman. The room was bare and modest, consisting mainly of a futon, a writing desk, and boxes of odds and ends that Sam didn’t seem to have anywhere else to put. Sam had offered move his things out for her, but Stephanie refused the offer, because she was determined not to turn this into something permanent. She liked Sam’s house and she liked Sam’s things, but she didn’t want to delude herself into thinking that this was somewhere that she belonged.

She showered and changed into a pair of sweats and an old t-shirt before settling in behind the old desk that had become her work station. Her phone was charging and irritatingly silent as Stephanie spread out her map and crossed off another location along the east coast. From the pattern she was seeing Bucky was likely still in the New England area, but was slowly making his way south. She wondered briefly if Sam would be willing to hit the road again tomorrow even if they didn’t have a proper destination in mind, but knew right away what the answer would be.

Stephanie sighed and put her head in her hands, convinced that if she closed her eyes and strained her ears enough she would be able to hear Sam’s breathing from across the hall. Sometimes at night she thought about sneaking into his room, coyly slipping into his bed and teasing until his strong arms were wrapped around her. They would sleep curled together, her back flushed against his firm chest as his full lips puffed hot, steady breaths of air against her neck. Maybe their fingers would stay locked together in their shared sleep, maybe their feet would knock against one another, and maybe they would wake up feeling warm and smiling.

A bitter laugh slipped out at the childish thoughts, because Stephanie was no dainty little girl who could tip toe delicately here and there. She was a lumbering giant who wore t-shirts and cotton pants to bed, not cute night gowns with little bows. Stephanie had her fair share of girlish things that Sam had never seen and Sam never would see them, because why would he care to? Sam Wilson was the type of man who would want a woman with gentle curves free from harsh muscles, a woman with elegant fingers without calluses, and was bathed with the scent of flowers more often than dried sweat.

Stephanie looked again at the screen of her phone and found that it was fully charged and without a single message. She sighed and pulled the cord from the wall before folding up the map and tucking it away inside the top desk drawer. She brushed the knots from her hair briefly before working it into a sloppy braid and slipping off to bed in the hopes of a more productive morning.

-

“So what happens when we find Bucky?” 

Stephanie turned to Sam who had recovered himself enough from the morning run to actually form complete sentences again. She couldn’t blame him for being so exhausted. It was a particularly hot morning with blistering sunshine and unbearable humidity. Even Stephanie’s workout clothes were a bit soggier than usual. She pulled at the collar of her shirt in order to peel the fabric away from her body before settling down to the ground across from him.

“What do you mean?” 

Sam frowned, leaning heavily against the base of the tree as Stephanie fell into position for her cool down stretches. “He won’t be the same guy you knew. Maybe he’s making progress, maybe he’s remembering, it’s possible. But it’s also possible, and more likely, that he’s still very much a killer without morals. Are we going to have another repeat of the Potomac where you end up beaten to a pulp with bullets riddling your gut?”

“That won’t happen,” Stephanie said flat and somewhat defensive as she arched her back and stared at him. “Last time I saw him he was different, he was remembering. He had the chance to kill me and didn’t.”

“Well, let’s ignore the fact that you _gave_ him that opportunity for a second,” Sam noted wearily as he slumped forward ever so slightly. “That base we saw yesterday? It wasn’t the first one we’d come across after he’d swept through. That was a clear indication that he is still the Winter Soldier, not Bucky Barnes.”

“That’s different. It was Hydra and…”

“Would the Bucky you knew ever be that needlessly violent? Even with the enemy?”

Stephanie said nothing, her body going tense with frustration as she mentally scrambled to find a decent response, but kept coming up empty handed. She sighed and tucked her feet beneath her as her gaze drifted towards the new set of runners who had come out to jog along the sunlit path. 

Sam blew out a long breath as he scrubbed at his sweat damp face, likely feeling a bit remorseful at having used such a low blow. “Look, Steph…” he began, but Stephanie was already cringing before he could go any further.

“Don’t,” she said a bit too sharply, shaking her head against the word. “Don’t call me that.”

Sam didn’t bother to ask why, likely having already figured it out on his own. A tense and unfamiliar silence settled between them as Stephanie lifted herself off of the ground and decided to go run a few more laps.

-

When Natasha returned to DC Stephanie hadn’t fully gotten over her not quite fight with Sam and used the opportunity as an excuse to leave the house without him. Fighting with Sam felt strange and wrong, avoiding him even more so, but she found it easier to walk out the door with only a note to inform him of her location and she spent the entire trip to the café feeling passive aggressive and petty.

When Stephanie walked in without Sam, Natasha greeted her with a look that would have been akin to mild surprise from anyone else, but came off as over the top shock on Natasha’s usually neutral face. “Been awhile since I’ve seen you without your boyfriend,” she noted as Stephanie pulled out a chair across from her.

“He’s not…” Stephanie began, but stopped herself. Natasha already knew that she and Sam weren’t together and arguing the point would only come off as childish. “He doesn’t need to be around for everything.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow at that, her lips pursing minutely as she took a quick sip of her coffee. “Sounds like there’s trouble in paradise,” she noted dryly. “I take it the hunt hasn’t been going well.”

“Yes and no,” she relented. “We’re on Bucky’s trail, but he always seems to be two steps ahead. I can’t figure out a pattern and Sam…” She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “I think Sam wants me to give the whole thing up, but how can I when we’re so close?”

Natasha didn’t say a word as she leaned back in her chair and quietly scanned the café with her sharp eyes. Stephanie knew right away that she agreed with Sam, but wanted Stephanie to come to the conclusion on her own. 

It didn’t take long for her gaze to drift back to Stephanie as Natasha grabbed her hand with her own and pulled it across the table top. She hummed disapprovingly as she turned Stephanie’s naturally rough fingers over and saw that her nails looked a bit more unkempt than usual. “Been a while since your last manicure,” she noted with a slight smirk.

“I haven’t had the time,” Stephanie shot back, but it was a foolish thing to say given Natasha’s well groomed, glossy nails. 

Natasha was always busy, but she always found a way to make time for herself. She was a bit like Peggy in that way. Agent Carter had always managed to look absolutely flawless even while fighting a war. Stephanie had looked up to Peggy for that, admired her ability to stand side by side with the men, but wear her womanhood like a badge of honor. Peggy had tried to teach Stephanie the things her mother had been too busy to do, had tried to show Stephanie how to curl her hair and paint her lips, but the fellas would always laugh at the sight of the six foot two dame in combat boots and make up, so Stephanie would purposely wipe her lips and pull back her hair as soon as she’d leave Peggy’s tent, quietly heartbroken at the loss.

After Peggy, Natasha had become her second instructor in the art of becoming an efficient woman. She had taken one look at Stephanie’s wardrobe and sneered, claiming that she dressed like a strange cross between a grandma and a grandpa. Natasha had stressed to Stephanie the importance of blending in with a modern wardrobe, reminding her that if she kept standing out with her mismatched clothes then she may as well walk the streets wearing a sign proclaiming her to be Captain America to the world. Stephanie’s clothes had been updated, but simple under Natasha’s guidance, filled with straight legged jeans in a variety of colors and an assortment of plain t-shirts. There were a few nicer items thrown in the mix, but they had mostly gone untouched, because somewhere in the back of her mind Stephanie still heard men laughing whenever her fingers even touched something delicate and flimsy.

“I could probably fix them up for you if you’d like,” Natasha suggested casually as she continued to inspect Stephanie’s nails. “My afternoon is free.”

“You need an entire afternoon to paint my nails?”

“No. We’ll do your nails last. First, I have to fix your hair.”

-

Stephanie returned to the house wearing a skirt and heels. Stephanie was too big and boxy to fit into any of Natasha’s clothes, but she always seemed to have a few spare things in Stephanie’s size for her to borrow. It was nice in a way, because it saved Stephanie the humiliation of trying on outfits at an actual store, but it was also a bit strange since Natasha never gave her a clear reason _why_ she had those things.

As she walked inside, her heels echoing pointedly against the floor, Stephanie became acutely aware of the fact that Sam had never seen her dressed so femininely before and felt her face flush in anticipation of his reaction. When she was younger, Stephanie wore dresses all the time, because in those days dressing like a little lady was the only option. The materials were always cheap and thin, the colors muted and sad, and if Stephanie had longed for anything it was to be able to fill out the heavy folds with gentle curves the way the other girls could. 

It was rare for her to get her hands on something new and fine, but when she did Bucky was always there to tease. He would pull on the hems of her skirt with a playful smile and a wolfish whistle and tell Stephanie that she looked like a real doll. As a girl Stephanie had fooled herself into believing that there was a chance Buck had actually meant those things, that maybe the playful tone was just his way of hiding his true feelings, but there was nothing more to Bucky’s words than gentle ribbing.

Sam was on the couch when she walked in, one leg dangling off the side with the other sprawled out across the cushions and overturned pillows. The television was on, flashing images of advertisements that couldn’t hold Sam’s attention as he read over something on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of Stephanie’s approach and offered her a soft smile. “Hey,” he greeted, sweeping his leg off of the sofa and onto the floor in a silent gesture for Stephanie to come forward. His smile widened as he took in the sight of her and Stephanie felt herself tense in anticipation. “Had some fun with Natasha I see.”

She chuckled softly, touching a freshly manicured hand to the gentle waves that had been set into her hair. “I think she’s the one who had fun with me,” she shrugged as she sat down beside Sam, her body remaining pointedly stiff even as Sam’s gaze shifted from her clothes to her face. “I was hoping she’d have some leads for me, but…”

“Hey, about that,” Sam interrupted gently, placing an apologetic hand on her shoulder and Stephanie had to fight against the urge to stiffen at the touch. “I’m sorry for pushing your buttons. It’s not what I was going for…”

“It’s fine Sam.”

“No, it’s not. I’m your friend Rogers and I care about you. That’s why I said all that dumb shit.”

“It wasn’t dumb,” she countered wearily. This wasn’t the conversation she wanted to have, but at least they were clearing the air and it made her feel a bit lighter to know that she and Sam were still okay. “And yeah, you were right. I am pushing myself too hard, but Bucky… he means a lot to me.”

Sam’s expression grew thoughtful as he shifted himself in order to get a better look at her. “There’s something I need to know, Stephanie, and I’m sorry if I step over the line with this, but Bucky… were the two of you _more_ than friends?” 

“No,” she said automatically.

He nodded, likely not the least bit surprised by the answer. “Did you ever want to be?”

Her body went rigid at the question and Stephanie knew right away that she had already answered him. She felt her face burn as she hunched her shoulders and allowed her gaze to fall to her lap where her hands sat clenched against the soft fabric of her skirt. She sighed and smoothed out the faint wrinkles. “We were friends. Just friends. It took me a while, but eventually I learned to accept that.” She shook her head, fighting the sad selfish smile that longed to spread across her lips. “Yeah I had feelings, but I buried them. This… this isn’t about that. It’s not about how I feel. It’s about helping him because it’s right.”

Sam gave a slow steady nod, his eyes still searching her features even if Stephanie refused to meet his gaze. She could tell he didn’t believe her, not fully, but he seemed willing to let the subject go for now. The hand that had been resting on her shoulder lifted and fell on top of her hands, Sam’s broad fingers barely covering her own giant hand. He offered her a gentle squeeze and his touch was so warm and kind that it almost burned.

“I get it,” Sam said, but Stephanie doubted he really did. “I understand. Bucky… he’s home. He’s something familiar that you want to hold on to, but I just don’t want you to keep hurting yourself over him. Bucky’s important to you, that’s okay, but you’re important too.”

“Yeah, I know,” she chuckled bitterly. “I’m Captain America.”

“No, you’re Stephanie Rogers. People care about you too.” 

Stephanie wanted to say something to that, but Sam didn’t let her respond. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close. Sam’s body was just as warm as his hands and his strong arms circling her made Stephanie feel small and delicate again even if she were a giant mess. Her eyes closed on their own as she breathed in his scent, spicy and pungent and enough to make her stomach jitter as her insides flushed. It was almost painful to be held by Sam like this because it was just what she wanted, but not at all like she had hoped for.

Eventually Sam pulled away, smiling so bright and kind, and it was foolish that Stephanie had to struggle to keep herself from crying. “You look so nice today, why don’t we go out?” Sam suggested as he rubbed at her shoulder. His fingers were just as rough and calloused as hers, but they felt so good against her bare skin. “I know this place down town with live music and amazing food…”

“No,” Stephanie laughed, shaking her head as she pulled her arm way from Sam’s touch. It had been hard enough just to walk back here dressed like this, the last thing she needed was to be in a crowd of people all dolled up so they could laugh behind her back. “No, I think I’d rather stay in. We could order some Chinese and watch more Star Wars.”

If Sam was disappointed, he did a great job of hiding it. “Sure. Whatever you want.”

-

Stephanie remembered Bucky’s jacket. He started wearing it when he was sixteen, a Christmas present from his parents that they had likely put away money for months in advance. It was pure leather and, at first, a bit too large in the shoulders, but eventually Bucky started to bulk up and he filled it out nicely. On cold days -- or rainy days or cloudy days or any day that Stephanie was feeling particularly cold -- Bucky would drape it across her shoulders and let Stephanie bundle herself up. She still remembered the way it smelled just like Bucky, the way she would secretly rub her cheek against it when he wasn’t looking and take deep greedy breaths in order to memorize his scent. Sometimes she would close her eyes and imagine those sleeves were Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around her, she’d picture Bucky’s chapped lips brushing against her ears as he whispered how cute she looked and how she’d be his girl forever.

On cold nights she would still think of Bucky’s jacket. Stephanie had quietly wished every night during the war that she could have smuggled it with her just so she could breathe it in when Bucky was stuck in his own bunk far out of reach.

That night she thought of Sam’s arms and the weight of him pressed close against her. Bucky had held her before, many times in fact, but it had been brotherly and playful. Sam’s touch had been new and tender and so much more. Stephanie sighed into her pillow as she touched her bare arm and remembered the gentle brush of Sam’s rough finger tips. It was painful to think that Sam didn’t want her, that he saw her as a friend and nothing more, just as Bucky had, but it was easy to close her eyes and dream that when he pulled back it had been to lean in and kiss her. She imagined his warm lips pressed against her, a flicker of tongue caressing her parted lips as she flushed straight to the tips of her ears and sighed, wanting so much more.

It was easy to think those things. Remembering the truth that she could never have what she really wanted was hard.

-

The next morning they headed south even though there weren’t any new leads and Maria had yet to contact them. Natasha tagged along, because she had helpful information and was taking a break from her own post-SHIELD espionage. It was a bit strange having three in the car, but the awkwardness didn’t take long to evaporate as Stephanie and Natasha discussed possible locations to search out and Sam busied himself playing with the iPod hooked into the radio.

They stopped in Tennessee to check out a base that seemed to be in the middle of nowhere just as the others had been. It was late when they arrived and they agreed to stop in a motel in order to get a few hours rest before getting started in the morning. 

Stephanie showered while Sam ordered a pizza and Natasha checked over their supplies. Any other time it would have been easy to ignore everything being said on the other side of the door, but the walls were thin and her hearing was too acute for even the shower spray to fully drown out the conversation.

“She’s cute wouldn’t you say?” Natasha was saying nonchalantly as Sam chuckled distantly in response. “Big doe eyes, long legs, rippling muscles… Kinda like a fairy princess that could rip out a tree stump with her bare hands.”

“You trying to play matchmaker with me, Romanov?” Sam shot back, still laughing quietly as he spoke.

“Just trying to see if I should throw your name into the pool. I’ve got a lot of options for our Lady Liberty, but if you’re interested…”

There was a pause that seemed to go on forever before Sam finally answered. “We’re friends.”

“So not your type?” Natasha pushed and Stephanie had a feeling Sam was shaking his head.

“She’s been through a lot. Dating’s not going to help with any of that.”

“Who says it has to be a date?” she said, likely with a shrug. “No reason two ‘friends’ can’t get together and have a little fun. Just look at me and Barton.”

“Barton? As in Hawkeye? I thought she was a woman.”

“Girl friends like to have fun, too.”

Sam said nothing and Stephanie decided she was done showering. She stepped out into the steam filled bathroom and gazed into the fog coated mirror. She could barely make out her figure this way, but Stephanie had decided a while ago she liked her reflection more when it was distorted and hard to make out. If she squint her eyes she could imagine that the set of her shoulders wasn’t quite so broad or muscle bound, that her narrow waist gently sloped into the curve of her hip instead of jutting out in sharp angles, and maybe her jaw could be a heart shaped point instead of a stiff square. She frowned and reached out with the palm of her hand to wipe off the mirror and gaze at her true self, the body she had traded everything for and still didn’t want.

Outside the door, steady thumping music began to play as Natasha and Sam lapsed into silence. Stephanie toweled herself dry and changed quickly into her night clothes before stepping out the door.

-

The Tennessee base was far more active than the last few had been. So active that it had earned them a few scrapes and bruises and a bullet in the shoulder for Sam. Stephanie was still shuddering as she paced the hall outside of his room. The wound wasn’t serious, wouldn’t cost Sam his arm or even keep him grounded for long, but it was still a bullet that he had taken for her, an injury that didn’t need to happen, but had happened because Stephanie couldn’t let go. Stephanie groaned, pressing a frustrated hand to her forehead, hating herself for dwelling on the thought that they hadn’t even found any new leads on Bucky for all their trouble.

Natasha stared at her, gaze sharp and set as she watched Stephanie move needlessly. There was a square of gauze taped to her brow covering the swollen patch of flesh that likely wouldn’t keep her down for very long.

“You can go see him, you know,” Natasha told her flatly. “He’s been out of recovery for almost an hour.”

Stephanie stopped in her frantic movements in order to shake her head and rub at the back of her neck. “No,” she said. “No, I… I can’t.”

Natasha shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her frown deepening slightly as she crossed her arms firmly in front of her. “Come on Rogers, you’ve had missions go south before. You never beat yourself up this bad.”

It wasn’t true, although that sort of regret was usually reserved for skirmishes that ended with far worse results, but Stephanie still felt her insides coiling with too many thoughts. She wanted to see Sam, wanted to make sure he was really alright, wanted to apologize for getting him hurt and putting his life in danger. More than that she wanted to kiss him, wanted to wrap her arms around him, careful and gentle, and press their lips together and stay that way for as long as humanly possible.

“I keep doing this to myself,” she laughed bitterly as she pressed her back flat against the smooth wall. It was sturdy and solid behind her and her head hit the dull yellowish paint with a deep thud when she tipped back far enough. “I keep falling for men I have no business with.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sam,” she whispered, voice slightly strangled as she pressed her hand over her eyes. “I… It’s stupid. He’s hurt and I’m… all I can think about is holding him, kissing him. It’s selfish.”

“No, you were right the first time, it’s stupid,” Natasha told her bluntly. “It’s stupid that you’re out here telling me all this when you could be in there with him.”

Stephanie breathed a deep breath through her nose as her hand fell to her side. “We’re not like that. We’re friends. He said so himself. He doesn’t see me that way.”

Natasha stepped to her side, her hand pressed firmly against Stephanie’s arm in order to draw her gaze. It worked, although briefly as Stephanie’s eyes flickered towards Natasha, before falling to the ground. “How blind are you that you can’t see that Sam’s in love with you?”

“If he loves me, then he loves me like a sister the way Bucky did.”

“Just because Bucky didn’t love you…”

“It wasn’t just Bucky,” Stephanie told her. “Every man I ever met… I was always either too small or too big. In the shows they laughed at me, stared at me like some side show freak. And the troops were just as bad, booing at me until I left the stage and the chorus girls came back on. They’d see the way I ate, the way I couldn’t fit into a regular skirt or blouse, and they’d laugh. I was always a walking joke.”

“Those guys were dicks. Sam’s not like that.”

“Sam’s a man, and yeah he’s a decent man, but he doesn’t want me. He doesn’t deserve to be stuck with me. He deserves a real girl, small and delicate and beautiful, someone who could give him things that I can’t.” Stephanie frowned as she shook her head, her fingers digging into her arms as she held them against her chest. “He’s too good for me.”

Natasha’s frown was surprisingly gentle as she touched a hand to Stephanie’s cheek, her fingers brushing against the cut along her jaw. “You’re Captain America, Rogers. There’s no body too good for you.”

“There is,” she choked as she turned sharply down the hall, booted heels echoing with every step.

-

“Too bad they don’t give you a cast for a busted shoulder,” Sam joked weakly as his tired eyes looked pointedly at the bandages wrapped around his right side. “Would’ve been a perfect opportunity to get an autograph from Captain America.”

“You fink,” Stephanie laughed as she did her best to listen to Sam and not dwell on how tired and pale he still looked slumped against the starchy hospital sheets. “You mean to tell me this whole time you were holding out for an autograph?”

Sam gave a weak little laugh as he stared up at her. “Well, not exactly, but I think I’ve earned one by now, right?”

“I think you’ve earned a hundred,” she whispered as she pressed her hands on top of his and instantly regretted the gesture. She should have known better than to be so openly touchy-feely with Sam. It wasn’t what friends were supposed to do. Yet when she tried to pull her hands away, his palm turned upwards, his sluggish fingers catching hers in a surprisingly firm grip. “Sam,” she sighed as his thumb brushed slowly against her nails, the red paint already chipping away. “I’m so sorry about this.”

“Hey, don’t,” he chided firmly as he looked up at her. “I was there ‘cause I wanted to be. Not like this is the first time I’ve taken a bullet before.”

“I keep dragging you in,” she said guiltily. “You deserve to be out.”

“You deserve to have something from home.”

“I have you,” she found herself blurting out, her face instantly turning pink as Sam’s eyes widened slightly at the words. 

She thought for certain he would pull away or ask her to leave, but was relieved when a slow easy smile spread across his full lips. The urge to lean forward and kiss was almost too much to stand especially when his fingers began grasping with the desire to reach out and touch. “When I get outta here, you gotta make me a promise,” he said softly, his eyes already drifting shut against the effect of the pain medication. “Let me take you out to that club sometime. You deserve a night out.”

“Sure,” she whispered, patting the back of his hand gently. “It’s a… it’s a promise. Now get some sleep.”

Sam hummed and settled back against his pillows, his eyelids roaming as he fell into a deep sleep. Stephanie held her breath and leaned forward, brushing her lips against the sharp planes of his cheek and praying that he wouldn’t remember.

-

It took a few days for Sam to be healed up enough to be released from the hospital. They drove back to DC where Stephanie looked after him as best as she could without hovering too much. Sam healed fairly fast for a normal man and within a few weeks he felt well enough to go out again, insisting that he and Stephanie hit the town just like she had promised. 

“I think my shoulder’s feeling good enough to take you for a spin,” Sam teased although he used his other arm to send Stephanie twirling awkwardly around the kitchen. His smile was infectious as he pressed a friendly hand to her arm. It almost made her forget the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. “What d’you say? Music, drinks, some tapas…” He frowned softly, likely noticing her too obvious reluctance. “Or we could stay in again. Maybe finally get to work on those prequels.”

“You said you didn’t want to watch them.”

He shrugged with his good shoulder. “Well, we’ve got a new movie next year. Gotta get you well rounded before then.”

She smiled and resisted the urge to place her hand on top of his. “No, we’ll go out. You’ve been looking forward to this.”

“I don’t wanna do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said seriously as he studied her face. “Are you sure Steph… Stephanie.”

She cringed at the momentary slip, but still managed to nod her head. “I’m sure. It’ll be fun.” Stephanie smiled in a way that she hoped wasn’t too forced and was rewarded with Sam’s features easing up a bit. “It’ll be a nice excuse to get dressed up. I mean, you won’t be embarrassed will you? Being seen with a giant woman?”

Sam laughed, shaking his head at that. “I know, your two whole extra inches are really going to dwarf me,” he chuckled. “Besides, girl, I’ve seen Thor. She’s twice as big as you!”

-

Natasha had disappeared again and if Stephanie weren’t convinced that she had likely become fed up with them, she would have phoned her for some advice. Instead she was left to her own devices, forced to curl her hair and apply makeup on her own, trembling fingers and sweaty palms threatening to derail the entire process. Sam hadn’t told her just how nice this place was and as she slipped on the sapphire cocktail dress she had purchased for the evening, Stephanie couldn’t help fretting that she may have gone overboard.

Her heart was pounding as she stepped out into the hall, one hand grasping at the fabric falling limp against her back where the zipper had stopped and the other holding tightly to the front of her dress. 

Sam stepped out of his room then, absently adjusting the cuff of his sleeve as he did so. He wasn’t sporting a full suit, just a pair of dark slacks and a deep burgundy shirt with a silver and black striped tie. It was simple, yet dapper and her face must have been strawberry red when his eyes met her gaze. Sam stood in what must have been stunned silence as he took in the sight of her, blonde hair cascading down one shoulder in gentle curls, red painted lips, and the vibrant material of the dress clinging pointedly to what little curves her body had to offer. It was the most feminine he had ever seen her and likely the reason for the shock.

“I… I needed a little help with the zipper,” Stephanie explained, turning her back towards him before Sam could manage to say anything. She lifted her hair carefully in order to better expose the zipper that was caught on the fabric of her dress. “Do you think you could…?”

“Yeah,” he said instantly, seeming to swallow against nothing at all and soon his warm hands were on her, carefully tugging at the dress. “Yeah sure.” It took a few more careful tugs, but eventually the zipper came loose and glided smoothly up the curve of her back. She could still feel Sam’s fingers there, lingering a bit longer than necessary as his eyes took in the odd sight. “Damn Cap,” he breathed as he took a pointed step back. “You clean up good.”

She chuckled, her lashes -- already elongated with the help of mascara -- fluttering against the flush of embarrassment. “You look pretty sharp yourself, Falcon.”

Sam smiled and reached out for her before pulling back. “Can I?” he asked, his eyes drifting towards her waist and the hand that was hovering inches above it. Her throat was too tight from the mere idea that Sam even _wanted_ to touch her to give a proper answer, but when his arm wrapped around her she felt as if she were melting. It was for play, she knew that, but it still felt good and right. “Ready to go?”

-

The club was nicer than Stephanie had expected, with dim lighting and good music. The bartender seemed to know Sam and was friendly and gracious to them throughout the night. The patrons were a mix of young and old, lively and calm, and if any of them recognized Captain America in a dress and heels sitting amongst the crowd then they were good enough not to draw attention to it.

They drank wine that was fairly sweet and sampled some tapas before Stephanie started to realize that Sam was growing a bit restless and eager to hit the dance floor.

“I gotta tell you,” she said, leaning forward in order to speak confidentially. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

“That’s okay,” Sam smiled pleasantly. “With this bum shoulder, I won’t be much of a partner.”

The band was gearing up to play another set and Stephanie decided to dive in as she pushed her own seat out and stood, motioning for Sam to follow her. His smile broadened as he did so and somehow they managed to swap places, with Sam taking her hand and leading her towards the spot on the floor far enough from the stage to hear the music without being over powered by it. His hand eased onto her waist as carefully as he had before as Stephanie gingerly positioned herself in a way so that she wouldn’t put too much of a strain on his mending shoulder. Music swelled around them, jazzy and slow, and the two began swaying comfortably against the steady rhythm.

“It’s funny,” Sam noted in a hushed voice as his eyes glanced around the dance floor that was sparsely filled with only a few other couples. “I thought for sure we’d get a bit more attention this. You being you an’ all.”

Stephanie shrugged at that, drawing her attention away momentarily from counting her steps. “Most people still think I’m a man,” she said plainly. “Not as many since the incident in New York, but apparently there are still a few who have their doubts.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “Gotta admit, growing up I thought you were a guy.” He smiled apologetically as Stephanie frowned with mock offense. “I had this action figure that I used to sleep with every night… Man, that’s embarrassing for so many reasons now.”

She chuckled, relaxing with every note of the music as they continued to sway back and forth. After a few songs Stephanie forgot to notice how much taller she was than Sam in her heels, didn’t give much thought to the fact that he had to tilt his head up slightly to meet her gaze, or that the caps of her sleeves were nearly tearing apart from the strain of holding in her massive arms. She just focused on Sam and the pleasant smile that seemed to live on his lips as she wondered how terrible would it be to kiss him right then and there on the dance floor.

Sam must have been sensing something as well, because the hand on her waist was beginning to move from above her hip to the small of her back, the weight of it enough to send her shuffling closer until their bodies were nearly pressed together. Her hands shifted, one hand tightening its grip against Sam’s warm palm as the other slipped against the fabric of his shirt and it must have been the wrong move, because Sam responded with a barely contained wince.

“Sorry,” Stephanie whispered, jerking back and away even if the hand around her stayed in place. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, chuckling even as he dropped her hand in order to rub at the sore spot on his shoulder. “Not like you popped anything.”

Sam laughed and made a show of flexing his arms, but Stephanie had already decided she had enough excitement for one night and said as much. They paid their bill (Sam paid actually) and stepped outside into the mild night air. Stephanie frowned as Sam led them back to his car, feeling large and out of sorts with every echoing clack of her heels.

“You feelin’ cold?” Sam asked as they slipped into his car.

Stephanie shook her head. She was never cold anymore and it would have been impossible to feel any sort of chill given how humid DC was during the summer. Yet Sam still took the time to reach into the backseat and grab a jacket he had thrown in there a few weeks ago. He smiled and carefully draped it across Stephanie’s broad shoulders. It wasn’t quite leather, but somehow it reminded Stephanie of Bucky’s jacket, musky and warm with the hint of imaginary arms wrapped around her.

They drove home in silence, the only sound between them being the soft music drifting from the radio and the purr of the engine. Stephanie almost felt as if she were drowning in Sam’s scent thanks to the jacket and the car and Sam himself being so near, but it was a pleasant feeling that made her eyes drift shut even if they were only ten minutes away from Sam’s house.

“Did you have a good time?” Sam asked when they pulled into the drive way.

Stephanie smiled stiffly. “It was nice.”

Sam pulled a face that was somewhere between a smirk and a frown. “Okay, I know for a fact that ‘nice’ is code for ‘bad.’ Was it the tapas?”

“No, that wasn’t it, although if I’m being honest I still have room for some pizza.”

“There should be a few slices left in the fridge. The dancing, then?”

Stephanie ducked her head and nodded. “Yeah, I… I’m not exactly light on my feet, as you could tell.”

He shrugged and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Well, yeah, you were on the stiffer side, but it’s not like you were stomping on my toes. We don’t have to dance next time,” he suggested helpfully then considered the words for a moment. “Or go at all.”

“No, I like going out with you,” Stephanie assured him and then blushed at the realization of what she had just said. “That is, I like going places together.”

“Yeah, I get you,” Sam chuckled as he slipped out of the car and Stephanie followed along, his jacket still clutched around her shoulders.

Once inside, Stephanie instantly kicked off her heels and Sam chuckled at the sight of her gradual decent. “Getting back down to my level, huh?” he laughed as he toed off his own dress shoes. 

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I probably should have worn flats.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam shrugged as he tugged at the knot in his tie until it came undone. “It’s a pretty sorry guy who gets worked up over a girl’s height. Besides, you like that stuff. Nothing wrong with that.”

Stephanie felt herself flush from the top of her head down to her toes as she suddenly became painfully aware of the jacket still wrapped around her. She frowned and quickly shrugged it off to hang on a hook by the door. “What makes you think I like this stuff?”

Sam let out a soft huff of a laugh as his eyes wandered from the floor to Stephanie’s eyes which had gone a bit wide with nervous anticipation. “It doesn’t take a detective to figure out that any girl that good at putting on eyeliner and curling her hair must take some pride in dressing up nice.”

“Don’t call me a girl.”

He chuckled, stepping closer in order to place his hands on either side of her hips. His touch was just as warm and sure as it had been back at the club, but his eyes were darker as they drank her in, the way the fabric clung to her body, the way her chest heaved, the slight part of her lips, and Stephanie couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be to kiss Sam. “Sorry,” he breathed his face suddenly painfully close to hers, so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her chin. “Lady.”

The space between them closed as Stephanie pressed herself against his chest, her own arms slipping behind Sam’s back and pulling him closer even as their lips caressed gently. It was what she’d wanted for so long, yet she still shuddered with a sense of disbelief, a fear that this was all just part of some too vivid dream and any moment now she would wake up.

Sam sighed deep in his nose as he inched himself back and Stephanie wanted so badly to pull him back in, but there was something troubling about the way Sam ducked his head and stiffened a bit. “Sorry,” he whispered in a voice that was sincere if still a touch hungry and desperate. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s okay,” Stephanie insisted, her hand sliding up his back, mindful of the spot on his shoulder blade that was still healing. “I wanted you to.”

“I know, I just…” Sam frowned, shaking his head even as his eyes still lingered on the red of her lips. “I’m sorry. You’re not in the right place for this.”

Stephanie frowned at his odd choice of words. She touched a hand to his cheek, forcing Sam to meet her gaze only to find a mixture of pity and guilt swimming in his eyes. Something suddenly seemed to catch in her throat as she merely stared at him, the pad of her thumb brushing against the planes of his sharp cheeks in a gesture that was soothing enough to cause his lids to flutter shut. 

“This isn’t the right time for this,” Sam told her gently even as he began to lean into the warmth of her palm. “You and Bucky… there’s still so much between you.”

“There’s nothing between me and Buck,” she said firmly. “I already told you, I buried those feelings.”

“Burying and getting over are two different things. I can’t be with a woman still hung up on someone else.”

“Sam,” she began, desperation soaking her words even as Sam shook his head and stepped away. For a moment she was afraid he would walk out on her, but she relaxed when his hand gently touched hers before guiding them both into the living room. They sat on the couch where they had shared popcorn and watched movies and spent hours talking late into the night, their hands linked together as they perched on the edge of something dangerous and new. “What I told you was true, Bucky and I were just friends.”

“But you wanted to be more,” he said flatly, his hand still cradling hers as he spoke.

Stephanie nodded feeling her throat tighten and her eyes water. “I did. I was in love with him. It was a stupid crush that never went anywhere, because Bucky didn’t love me. I was always his kid sister, nothing else.”

“And this,” he began, motioning between the two of them to emphasize his meaning, “is this just about that, me being a replacement for Bucky?”

“You’re nothing like Bucky, Sam,” Stephanie insisted firmly, her own fingers squeezing pointedly on their linked hands. “You’re both good guys who looked after me, but… What we have is different. I just never realized how different ‘til you kissed me.” She frowned and looked down at herself, at her thick calves and hard thighs, and the lean muscles all too apparent in her arms even as she sat there in a dress with smeared lipstick and curled hair. “Were you really interested? This whole time?”

Sam laughed, light and disbelieving, and for a moment Stephanie prepared herself for the worst, but the twinkle in his eyes stayed kind even as he shook his head at her. “Seriously? Are you really asking me if I was attracted to you? Stephanie, have you seen yourself? You’re beautiful!”

“I’m not,” she insisted, pulling her hands away from his. “I’m not beautiful. I’m a man! Look at me Sam; I’m all broad and muscular not soft and delicate the way a real woman should be.”

He frowned in a way that she had never seen before, his shoulders going pointedly tense as he looked down at his lap before looking back at her. “You don’t need to be a porcelain doll just to be pretty, Stephanie. You’re beautiful and it’s not just about your looks. You’re kind, brave, and I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as willing to go above and beyond for their people as you. You’re a gorgeous woman, inside and out.”

Stephanie smiled at that, feeling warm and light as she reached out to press her hand against his knee. “That means a lot coming from someone like you,” she told him honestly, tipping forward in order to lessen the distance between them, because suddenly they were just too far apart. “Someone so thoughtful and good… Knowing that you think so much of me…”

“You’re a good woman,” he told her truthfully as his left hand gently slipped behind her neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse in her throat. “Anybody who can’t see that is an idiot.”

“Sam,” she managed to breath just as he kissed her again, light and careful, but still so warm and solid. Her hand crawled up from his knee to his thigh, squeezing down tight in order to silently tell him to deepen the kiss. His tongue flickered across her lips and it was strange and new, but pleasant. She moaned and pressed her mouth against his full lips, her whole body tingling with how right this all seemed.

When Sam pulled it felt far too soon, a fact that he seemed to recognize when he smiled up at her with a somewhat sheepish curl to his lip. “Sorry,” he breathed huskily with a slight grimace. “Still remember that you’re a lady so we gotta take this slow.”

“Is that your way of saying your shoulder’s too sore to keep going?” she teased and was rewarded with a sharp chuckle.

“Yeah, you caught me. What do you say we put this whole thing on pause and spend another night on the couch?”

Stephanie smiled and leaned in for another quick peck. “That sounds nice. I’ll just slip out of this dress and into my sweats.”

“Okay,” he hummed giving her lips a light nip. “I’ll warm up those pizzas while you change.”

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in an alternate universe where the Avengers are all female save for one male member.


End file.
